


so many names for god and none of them mean want

by capondi



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Post-TLJ, a slower burn than intended, but mostly PWP, pre-tros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capondi/pseuds/capondi
Summary: Something I wrote pre-TROS and posted to tumblr. Our dumb space virgins touch themselves and each other.---She kept replaying their final argument, trying to understand just what he had meant, how she had gotten it so wrong. She didn’t believe he was past saving, but she was afraid it was out of her hands. How could she help him, if he didn’t want to help himself?Not by doingthis, her mind responded. She rolled over, and tried to sleep.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 156





	so many names for god and none of them mean want

She’d long since given up feeling guilty about this. On Jakku it had become a nearly nightly task when sleep had failed to claim her, or when the aches and pains of her day’s labor needed relieving. 

It hadn’t even felt sexual, at first. She was perhaps thirteen when she first found out that it felt good, her mind going blissfully blank as she took care of herself. Some time later, through the windblown flaps of the brothel tent, she curiously looked too long and saw it: A dark haired human woman, fully naked, rubbing herself _down there_ as her eyes fluttered closed. A man had leaned into view, lowering her body with his body, and Rey had fled, the image burning bright in her mind. She had only known about sex in the most abstract of terms, and hadn’t before connected her harmless pasttime with the subject of procreation. She abstained for a while after that, long enough to feel the ache and the urge to do so again - and she had, under the confusing notion of a shame she couldn’t quite identify.

She didn’t have much to work with, so she thought of a man. Perhaps the man from that illuminating night. She hadn’t seen his face, so her imaginary partner was faceless also, nearly formless, his ministrations as vague as her own knowledge. In time she began to think of certain men in particular, smugglers and scrap salesmen, usually. Fairer than desert tramps and better fed, healthy muscles bared as they hauled crates on and off their ships. She rarely saw the same man twice, so these were safer fantasies to indulge in. Her ears became more attuned to the sexual banter shared between men and sometimes women at Niima outpost, her mind working to puzzle out their meaning. She never liked being in the dark. She could teach herself about this as she had done everything else.

Deciding that it was a complicated, but at least generally accepted topic, she returned to enjoying herself freely. 

When the thought of Ben’s hands replacing her own appeared spontaneously, an electric thrill shot through her, easily doubling the pleasure of the previous overused fantasy. She pulled her hand away immediately, flooded by guilt and confusion. This had been a few days after the battle of Crait, when the immediate concerns of the Resistance had been seen to, and she faced her first full night of sleep since Ach-to. She needed the relief, she decided. She hadn’t planned on thinking about _him_.

Oh, but she had before, hadn’t she?

First as a fear, bound to a chair on Starkiller base. Later, after she saw his future - _their_ future - as allies, she had wondered if they would become more than that. He was attractive, she’d give him that. Her heart yearned for the compassion and belonging they could give each other. They had come so close to it. She’d looked at his lips, and caught him looking at hers. How did you know if someone wanted to kiss you? How did you know if you wanted it yourself?

She kept replaying their final argument, trying to understand just what he had meant, how she had gotten it so wrong. She didn’t believe he was past saving, but she was afraid it was out of her hands. How could she help him, if he didn’t want to help himself? _Not by doing **this**_ , her mind responded. She rolled over, and tried to sleep.

—

Fresh air. She’d forgotten what fresh air smelled like, that it could have a flavor not of human sweat and fuel and singed electrical parts. It smelled faintly like vinegar, from whatever was sending billowing steam out of the hot spring over the hill, but to her it was as sweet as anything.

The planet had no real civilization, it didn’t even have a name. But it had a fueling station and supplies of questionable origin, and it was far enough away from any First Order regiment that even if they were ratted out they’d be jumping through hyperspace again before anyone arrived. They didn’t have many options.

Rey decided to get some distance from the people she had been caged in with for over two weeks. Everyone not working on refuelling and supplying the Falcon had a similar idea, scattered hither and yon over the blue hills, only as close as necessary to make an emergency evacuation. She had to walk for several minutes to put everyone out of sight. She never thought she’d want to be alone again, but the need was still hidden in her bones apparently, like a nutritional requirement of her soul. 

She found a stand of large black stones, reminiscent of the rocky coast on Ach-to. One side was covered in a thick coat of red moss, looking like rubber coils. Force instinct told her the growth was harmless to her, and she ran her fingers through it, laughing softly at the novelty of it. She would never get tired of these new experiences, of touching something other than metal and sand.

Clamoring up a boulder a little taller than herself, she sat cross-legged, palms up on her thighs. She closed her eyes and began to see through the force instead. It was like adjusting your eyes to darkness, details fading in: the bright bustle of light from the Resistance soldiers. The warm push of the living planet. The cool pull of death, bringing the life into balance.

A ripple, then, a warping of the natural energies here. Her hair rising as her skin pimpled, and a feeling akin to the moment before a lightning strike. Suddenly, he was there.

He appeared perched on an adjacent stone, his legs hanging off, but where was he really? On the edge of his bed, perhaps. He was dressed at least, but his gloves were off, the top of his collar slightly open. He was staring at her with a neutral expression, his chest expanding with steady breaths. So was she, even though the sudden thundering of her heart demanded more oxygen, she fought for composure. Was his heart racing too?

“Are you going to say anything?” She asked, relieved her voice was steady. She didn’t think it would continue to be if she held his gaze, so she looked out to the horizon instead.

“Is there anything left to say?” He countered, his voice as soft as it had been in the hut, no resentment to be detected.

She sighed. She had to think, had to use the right words this time.

He spoke again, “Where are you?”

She huffed a laugh at that. “You know I can’t answer that.” Her heart twisted with a worry she hated to acknowledge: That if he did find them, would he kill her too? Would she have to kill him? How far they had come from the forest.

“Are you safe?”

She turned then, confusion pinching her brows. She couldn’t answer for a moment, her eyes roaming his face. Was there truly concern there? Finally, she couldn’t take the anomaly of his question in silence any longer. Anger spiked through her, her voice rising now. “You and your First Order are actively hunting down me and my friends, how can I possibly be _safe_?”

“If the Resistance stands down, they will be imprisoned but their lives will be spared. I–” He looked down for a second, swallowed. When he looked back his gaze had hardened with conviction. “I don’t intend to rule the galaxy the way that Snoke had, with domination and terror. If peace can be achieved than so be it, but control _will_ be had.”

“And me, you’ll throw me in prison as well?”

His silence was all the answer she needed. Even now, he still wanted her by his side. She really shouldn’t feel excited by that knowledge.

“And do you still have Stormtroopers? Stealing children from their families, stealing their _names_? Brainwashing them into an army of slaves?”

“An army needs soldiers. An empire can never stand without the means to defend itself.”

He was unbelievable. She scoffed, turned away from him again. She didn’t need to let this fight get out of hand like it had the last time. She took several deep breaths. Then she took several more. He kept his silence. If she couldn’t feel him in the force like he was _right there_ she might have thought the connection had broken. She thought about waiting it out, give them both more time to think before they spoke again.

However contentious she felt, she couldn’t deny that this felt right, having him here. More right than she had felt in weeks, like a missing piece of her had slid back into place. Did he feel the same way?

“I don’t want to fight with you, Ben,” she finally whispered, glancing back at him. At hearing his name, a tension she hadn’t even realized was there bled away from posture. His jaw relaxed and he exhaled long, like he had been holding his breath. The sense of relief was palpable through the force. She still called him Ben. He hadn’t been sure.

She felt her eyes start to burn as she ached again for that boy inside the man, lonely and yearning and afraid. This, more than anything, heartened her faith that there was still a chance.

“Neither do I,” he replied, the words echoing in the space he once occupied. He was gone.

—

His hand trembled over the fastenings of his underwear. He balled it into a fist to still it before loosening the button, reaching in and touching himself. He exhaled shakily, leaning his head back against his headboard and shutting his eyes. He always went slow, reminding himself of what pleasure felt like. He’d denied himself of it for so long, hating the times it was a necessity, a vulgar flaw in his biology. Pain had been his teacher, victory his only reward. This wasn’t for him to indulge in.

As a boy and then as a young man, Snoke had corrupted everything good in him. The love of his family, his faith in the light. Even this. His earliest desires were quickly twisted into dark and ugly horrors. He recoiled from them, feeling himself to be vile, feeling _wrong_. He avoided the thoughts as well as he could, taking no pleasure in the violent fantasies forced upon him, but fearing that perhaps he did.

Now, he allowed himself this. He sought these thoughts out timidly: soft skin, a hot mouth, hands roaming places he’d never touched. Small parts of a whole he didn’t fully understand.

Force help him, he thought about her. 

He couldn’t think of anyone else. He tried really, tried to give her this privacy, but no one else had ever made him feel this way, shake him to his foundation and give him strength all at once. After she had rejected his offer, the act felt more pathetic than ever before. She’d never give him this.

Seeing her again, the first time since Crait, drove him to sate himself. Seeing her, hearing her, reminding him all over again of every beautiful detail of her that his memory paled in comparison to. She still called him Ben. Knowing that, he used the detail in his mind without guilt. Well, without _more_ guilt.

“Rey…” Her name slipped out on a shaky breath, and his cock twitched in his hand. He brought his other hand to his mouth, sucked on the back of it and tried to pretend that it was her skin. Her neck perhaps, or the flat plane of her stomach. He had to draw the sounds of her from the memories of their fights. Could he make her gasp, to whine his name?

Lightyears away, Rey lay in bed and sought her own relief.

It wasn’t really a bed. All the bunks were taken, as was much of the floor. She’d scavenged some cushions from elsewhere and made a pallet for herself in a supply closet. It sat above a particularly noisy part of the engine, so she wasn’t afraid of being heard as small, needy sounds escaped her. Exhausted from repairs to the ship and meetings about strategy, she didn’t have the resolve to keep him out of her thoughts tonight, not with his gaze still burning a hole in her memories.

Maybe he thought about her too.

She sucked in a breath at that, her heart hurting in a beautiful way as she clenched down on her own fingers. She didn’t know where to put that surge of emotion so she let it escape from her mouth.

“Ben…”

If anything it made her heart ache more, like it was swelling and stretching her ribcage to its limit. It made her want to cry.

“Rey.”

Her eyes opened, and she turned toward the motion she caught in the corner of her eye. He was looking down at her, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen him. His mouth was parted in a gentle pant, like she had caught him training.

She hadn’t caught him training.

He was stripped to the waist, still pale as before but now slightly flushed, a dampness collecting in his clavicle. His hand gripped the black sheet in his lap, the towering evidence of his erection apparent at its center.

She was flat on her back, wearing only her panties and a loose tunic, which was hiked above her breasts. Her hand still snaked beneath her thin grey blanket, its occupation undeniable. Her hair, undone, puddled behind her head. He watched her gaze turn from his eyes to his lap a couple times, trying to read the expression on her face. The connection between them _blazed_ with the realization of what they both were doing, that singular _rightness_ that came with being together nestled inside it, making him dizzy.

She spoke first. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t understand, and then when he caught the motion beneath her sheet, he did. Unable to find the words to respond, he just obeyed. His hand disappeared, finding himself still hard and leaking, and began to stroke it again. His eyes never left her, hardly blinked, raking her top to bottom. She followed the movement of his gaze, drinking her in like he was dying of thirst. Then she watched the movement of his hand, a thrill racing through her knowing that he was enjoying this - enjoying _her_. She tried to match the pacing of her ministrations to that of his, wondering what it felt like for him.

His left hand twitched out toward her. She thought she felt a slight tug on her blanket, but if he was responsible, he went no further. A choked sound escaped him, like he couldn’t remember how thoughts could be coherently turned into words.

Finally, he managed, “Let me see?” His voice cracked weakly, higher than usual. She looked back at his face again, finding a needy expression there. His lips were trembling, but his eyes – oh. They were gonna swallow her whole.

“You first,” she breathed. 

Ben swallowed. His left hand twitched over his sheet, hesitating. This was new to him, too, and that made something in her center pulse joyously. They weren’t alone anymore.

He uncovered himself, manhood jutting out of the fly of his underwear. He was slick with precum, ruddy and purpling slightly at the head. Rey sucked in a breath, caught off guard by the size of him. She could smell him from here, a musky scent distinctly different from the rest of him. She swallowed, knowing she had to follow suit.

His intense gaze locked onto her lower half when she began to remove the blanket. He found her hand working beneath the thin covering of her panties, and he moaned low in the back of his throat. He looked wild, his teeth half bared between his full lips. His breaths came in fits and starts, like there wasn’t enough of his brain to devote to the task of managing his lungs. She was no better, one hand fisted in the sheets as with her other hand she moved to slide two fingers inside her. She couldn’t remember being this wet before. She lifted her hips to meet her fingers, the movement tilting her breasts back. She had never felt much reason to have pride in her breasts, aside from the fact they weren’t usually a hindrance while crawling around in gutted out spacecrafts. Tearing his attention from the hypnotic motion of her hand, Ben felt himself salivate at the sight of her breasts. They were perfect, rosy nipples erect and inviting.

He shifted a little closer on his knees, his pace on his cock faltering at this new distraction. His eyes slightly glazed over, he reached forward without thinking and –

Rey shook her head, a small sound of denial in her throat.

Ben retracted his hand in an instant, like a flinching beast. The hand on his cock stuttered to a halt, and his face took on a slightly pained expression, warring equally with the lust that remained. 

Feeling his hurt confusion reverberate through their bond, Rey desperately wanted to assure him that he wasn’t being turned away, not really. She rolled her hips to remind him she was enjoying this, biting her lip like she had seen the brothel women do, as they tried to seduce the men into their tent. This seemed to have an effect at least, his eyes following every gesture like he would the forms of an opponent. He still hadn’t returned to what he was doing.

Her eyes slid down the length of his body to his cock, still needily erect. “Touch yourself,” she said, the command sounding more like a plea than an order. A request that they continue with this game of theirs.

His eyes searched her face, and she could practically see the thoughts warring in his mind. His jaw worked like he had a confession to make, his lips pressed together like they did when he felt unsure, or vulnerable.

“You,” he whispered, glancing down at his cock then back at her. There was a glint of fear in that look, that she might reject him again. She could see an unspoken _please_ in his eyes, a word her heart hurt to recall with clarity.

She took her hand out of her panties, but not before dipping deeper one more time, coating her fingers and palm with slick. He watched her with wide eyes as she reached for him, wrapped her much smaller hand around the considerable width of him and slowly tightened her grip. His eyes closed. When she began to inexpertly stroke him he groaned out loud. He seemed about to collapse in on himself, the sensation of another’s hand touching him so intimately - no, of _her_ hand touching him so intimately - was better than any orgasm he had ever had. He couldn’t imagine what this one would feel like.

He was hot, and surprisingly soft. Velvety skin along the shaft and slightly spongy at the head. Sometimes she would swipe a thumb over the slit at the top, enjoying seeing the pearly fluid build and drip, keeping him lubricated. She had never seen one hard before. She was as fascinated by its function as she would be of a new piece of tech, scavenged and repaired. His groans became more like whines, gasping for breath between each one that she ripped from him.

“Rey–” He stuttered out, “Rey, Rey, Rey, ReyReyRey.” Her name became a litany, the purest expression for what he was feeling, so inadequate was any other word in any other language.

Rey had replaced her right hand with her left, the same actions awkward with her off hand but still pleasurable.

“Ben,” she whined, wanting him to feel what she felt, hearing her name spoken with such reverence.

“Oh, fuck– Rey, I’m gonna–” Whatever he was going to say became swallowed by a broken cry as he queezed his eyes closed. Ecstasy didn’t just wash over him, it pulled him under like a riptide and tried to drown him. The first two jets of cum flew straight over Rey, probably off his bed. The explosion startled an “Oh!” from her, and she released him in her surprise. Immediately he replaced it with his own, jerking furiously as more cum leapt from it, striking her high on her chest, her breasts, her stomach. He was panting like he had sprinted a mile. When he opened his eyes again he looked drugged.

After he took over, she returned her right hand to her pussy, her vision glued to the sight of Ben coming completely undone before her. His semen was hot on her body, cooled by sweat exposed to the open air. Curious, she touched a finger to a stripe of it and delivered it to her tongue. It was salty, but overall mild, not unlike what she knew herself to taste like.

After a few moments, Ben appeared to recover slightly, his eyes mapping the stains he’d left on her skin, wanting to lock the image in his mind for eternity. He felt a little guilty about the mess, but Rey didn’t appear to mind. He thought of wiping her off with his blanket, but he leaned forward and used his tongue instead. Rey’s eyes, which had fallen shut as she chased her own release, popped open. He thought she might send him away again, but she didn’t. He used firm, efficient strokes of his tongue to clean her, the gesture oddly endearing. He cleaned her stomach first, than her neck. He saved her breasts for last, the contact on her sensitive flesh making her gasp sharply.

After the last of the cum was gone he did take a single liberty my pulling one nipple into his mouth and running his tongue slowly over it. She made one inarticulate cry, followed by his name, before falling over the edge herself. 

He pulled away to see her face, to capture that too, but in the space of a blink, she was gone. 


End file.
